


Let Me Try

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All aboard the Hanahaki pain train!, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone's fine, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor gore warning?, it will all be okay, klance, klangst, like the angst and feels in this are pretty heavy, please don't worry, there is so much kissing in this oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16644158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: Keith contracts Hanahaki and won't tell Lance. When Lance finds out he has a few choice things to say if he can get them out through the tears. Keith should have given him the chance to try.





	Let Me Try

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I did one too. I'm so sorry. Have fun with the bloody makeout.
> 
> Edit: Now with fewer spelling mistakes!

Keith doesn't know why he draws the flowers. It's not like they're wilting. Instead they pile up in his room and he's too exhausted to hide them, the blossoms half formed, the petals scattered and sticking to the floor in little splatters of blood; a dirty morbid reminder of what’s happening to him.

He can't be bothered to clean them up anymore so instead they pile up like autumn leaves, eddying in the corners.

Keith picks up one of the half formed blossoms from the bed, twirling it in his fingers. It's the closest thing to Earth they have that they didn't bring with them when they came to space. If it weren't so morbid he’d offer one to Lance knowing how much he misses Earth.

His breathing rasps and a cough tears from him, thick and wet. Blood splatters into his palm as he covers his mouth, dribbling down his chin. He shakes his head at the scattering of petals in his palm, flicking them away and swiping his bloodied hand across his shirt, grateful it's black. At least it hides the blood.

The fabric stiffens and crunches but at least he can't see it. Somehow it makes it easier to pretend. Like maybe it’s just from a wisdom tooth extraction or something equally banal and not the flowers suffocating him.

He should care, should pretend it's okay, that he's okay, at least for them, but he's just too damn tired. And it’s getting worse.

There's not much to do since finding out about the flowers growing in his lungs, their roots tearing him apart and stealing his breath. After the first few months he'd been unable to fight, the shortness of breath wearing him down until it's a struggle just to make it down the hall. Hunk starts delivering meals to his room and while Keith appreciates it he hates how weak it makes him feel.

He can't stand the pity he sees in Hunk's eyes every time he stops by or the rest of his team, the desperation to help him but being unable to. He knows it’s killing them to watch him die like this.

So he sits in his room and he draws. It keeps his mind and his hands occupied. The sketches litter the room almost as much as the flowers themselves. The ones he draws of Lance he bothers to hide though he's not sure why. It doesn't matter anymore, but he can't bring himself to talk about it. And it wouldn't make a difference anyway. Lance doesn’t love him and Keith can't handle the rejection on top of his already broken heart.

The others keep wanting to see him, to visit, but the longer this goes on the less Keith can stand to be around them. He just wants it to be over. So he hides in his room, counts his breaths, and he draws. What else is there to do.

~

When Shiro finds him struggling through a fit, flowers and blood spilling out of his mouth in long strings of thick saliva he drags Keith to the medbay. They put him on oxygen and stuff him into a pod. It helps, but not for long. With each flower that blooms inside him and tears free of his lungs the damage is done over again and Keith waves them off. He doesn't want to spend what time he has left in the medical wing. The pods are a unique form a torture he can’t stand.

Shiro finally relents, allowing Keith to return to his room, escorting him back two days later. Keith doesn't remember he'd been drawing Lance until Shiro walks him into the room, the charcoal and sketches scattered across the bed. Keith ignores Shiro even though he can feel the weight of his gaze on him. He flops onto the mattress with a wheeze.

When he doesn't say anything Shiro tentatively reaches out and lifts one of the drawings and Keith has to watch realization dawn across his face. Shiro’s lips form a silent ‘oh’ and he lowers the drawing to look at Keith.

“Don't,” Keith rasps, staring through half-lidded eyes at the ceiling. All he can taste is blood.

“Keith-”

Keith turns his head and levels a look at Shiro, effectively silencing him. Shiro's shoulders sag but he stays quiet. Keith rolls onto his side, papers crunching beneath him and smearing charcoal, listening as Shiro exits the room.

It takes another month for Shiro to tell Lance about the sketches. By then Keith has moved into the third stage, fully formed flowers spilling from his mouth, all of them stained with blood.

He’s stopped leaving his room.

~

Keith won't let them in the room but they linger outside his door anyway, not sure what to do but not wanting to leave. Lance clutches the sketch in his hand and offers a wan smile at Hunk and Pidge where they sit outside the door, but can’t form words through the knot in his throat. He doesn't bother to knock, just opens the door and steps inside.

He wants to recoil at the smell that greets him: warm and wet and reeking of iron. It’s something primal that fills his nose and makes him want to run.

The room is dark, dim light giving him enough to see by. The room is nothing like Lance has ever seen. Clothes are scattered across the floor, flowers and dark spots staining the metal.

Interspersed between them all are sketches and charcoal sticks, black dust streaked everywhere. He crouches down to lift one of the sketches, turning it over and finds another image of himself staring back at him. Lance’s legs begin to shake, tears pricking at his eyes. He can taste panic rising in the back of his throat. He can hear the shallow rasp of Keith’s breathing from where he lies on the bed watching.

Terror grips him and Lance’s fingers curl into the paper. “Why didn’t you-” he gasps, struggling to breathe. His eyes finally meet Keith’s and Lance wants to pinch himself because this can’t be happening.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Keith turns away from him and Lance’s heart breaks. He feels like he’s vibrating apart and stumbles to the bed, sinking clumsily onto it, sitting beside Keith before his legs give out entirely. He feels like he’s caught in the worst kind of nightmare. His head won't stop spinning.

“...doesn’t...matter,” Keith breathes and Lance wants to kill him.

    “Of course it matters!” Lance feels like he’s been stabbed and leans forward to put a hand on the mattress on the other side of Keith, forcing him to look at him.

“You didn’t-” Lance buries his face in his other hand, swallowing thickly. He takes a moment to catch his breath before looking up.

“If you told me I could have tried. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.” His breath thins. “God this shouldn’t be happening.”

 “...love me?” Keith asks and Lance wants to wipe the dried blood from his face.

“I don’t know,” he chokes, his heart racing as he searches Keith’s eyes. Keith turns away from his again, shifting on the bed like he wants to escape.

“I could have but you didn’t give me that chance and-” Lance blinks, tears spilling down his cheeks. A weight hits his chest as he realizes why this is happening, that he's the cause of it. That Keith is suffering because if him.

“This is my fault.” His eyes widen with the realization. “Stars,” he gasps, face ashen, “this is happening because of me.” It feels like a star is collapsing in his chest and Lance is bowed forward under the weight of it, struggling to breathe.

There's a vice around his chest, struggling to crush him. He manages to pull enough of himself together to sit up.

“Let me try,” Lance whispers, his voice pleading. “You didn't even let me try.” He smooths Keith’s hair away from his face. He’s fever warm, skin tinted blue from lack of oxygen and Lance is desperate.

He cradles Keith's face in his hands and Keith can feel him shaking. His vision is spotting and it feels like he’s burning. He can’t help turning into Lance’s touch, still wanting, even now. He can’t help it, knows he should chase Lance off, doesn’t want him to see him like this, but he can't catch his breath long enough to respond.

Lance leans over him, pressing his trembling lips to Keith's like it's an apology. He pulls back and Keith is gasping, the brief moment without breath causing his heart to trip over in fear and for a moment his vision blacks over entirely.

“Let me try to love you,” Lance pleads. He squeezes his eyes shut pressing his forehead to Keith's. His voice shakes as badly as his hands. “It can't be that hard to love you.”

“-ou don't,” Keith gasps and the words are raw, tearing from his throat.

Lance sniffles, his thumbs stroking Keith's cheeks as he pulls away, swiping at the tears slipping down his temples. “Don't you get it?” Lance whispers. “I could. That's what I'm trying to tell you.” His grip on Keith tightens. “I could love you and you didn't give me that chance. You should have given me that and you didn't-” His voice cracks and he cries.

“Just-kiss me,” Keith begs, his voice a raw gasp, back bowing off the bed with what little strength he has left. What’s the point in fighting it anymore. He’s dying anyway. The least he can do is kiss Lance goodbye.

Lance kisses him and it's hot and desperate, sour with fear. Keith feels like he's dying and he is; he wouldn't want to go any other way but with the taste of Lance's tongue in his mouth, chasing away the blood he's been drowning in.

He hasn't tasted anything but blood for months. It's like a breath of fresh air and one he chases when Lance pulls away, watching him for a moment and Keith realizes he's letting him catch his breath.

A whine, high and needy that he should be embarrassed about escapes Keith, his hand lifting off the bed, trying to draw Lance back down and he goes willingly.

Lance’s heart races, adrenaline making his head spin and he shivers with anticipation. This time Keith tips his chin up into the kiss and Lance lets his fingers slide back into dark hair, cradling Keith's head, changing the angle and kissing him deeply. When he pulls away they're both gasping.

“I don't want to say goodbye to you,” Lance cries, whispering the words into Keith's skin. He presses a kiss into his temple. “I'm not ready.” He noses along Keith's cheek. “Please don't go.”

Keith turns into the touch, chasing Lance's mouth.

“Then don't.” His voice is soft and exhausted. “Just kiss me again...please.” He sounds so needy and desperate and unlike anything Lance has heard before so he does, pressing Keith into the bed. Keith's grip on him bruising, pulling him tighter.

Fingers find their way under the back of Lance’s shirt and Keith presses up into him, his fingers leaving a long trail of scratches down Lance's spine and he gasps into Keith's mouth, whimpering at the sensation.

Keith chases the sound with his tongue.

Lance breaks the kiss, pulling back and Keith follows him until he's sitting up, one hand tangled in Lance's hair. He's breathing rapidly, eyes still closed when Lance pulls back to look at him. He's captivated by the sight of Keith in front of him, pink suffusing his skin for the first time in months.

He stares in wonder and touches a thumb to Keith's lips, no longer tinted blue and Keith turns his head into the touch, darting his tongue out to catch the pad of it, making Lance shudder.

“What's happening,” Lance whispers, still staring at Keith who has his eyes closed, savoring the feel of Lance's skin against his.

“Don't know,” he murmurs, “but it's helping.” He winces, curling forward and coughing, but it sounds better than it did before and he spits a petal from his mouth, blood sliding down his chin again.

Lance catches the side of his face dragging him back up to face him, pulling the second petal from Keith's mouth with his tongue.

When Keith pulls away he takes a deep gasping breath, the first deep breath Lance has heard him take in months and he can't tell if Keith is laughing or crying. Tears are streaming down his face and Lance kisses or swipes them away, crying himself but stunned with wonder.

Keith smiles weakly, still cradled in Lance's arms, hands clutching at him loosely.

“Guess you love me after all.”

Lance chokes on what might be a laugh or a sob, he isn't sure. His heart lifts with something he can't quite name but relief washes over him and he’s shaking.

He bumps his forehead into Keith's again, his cheeks flushing.

“Guess so?” He takes a shallow breath. “Can I keep kissing you?” he asks shyly. “Turns out I kind of like it.”

Keith laughs and it's the most beautiful sound Lance has ever heard. His flush deepens.

“I would hope so,” he teases. “I've been wanting to kiss you for I don't even know how long.”

Lance wraps his arms around Keith, clutching him to his chest, his hands wandering up and down Keith's back as he lays him back down. He slides onto the bed to drape his body along Keith's, still terrified of hurting him, of putting pressure on his chest.

“Is this okay?”

Keith tugs Lance's hair, making him groan before grabbing a fistfull of his jeans and rolling them until Lance is pinned beneath him.

“Shut up.” He kisses Lance until his toes curl, their legs tangling together. He never wants to stop but he's exhausted and while the pressure in his lungs is abating, he knows he should get to a healing pod now that the flowers aren’t killing him. He presses a kiss to Lance’s mouth.

“I should go. The others are going to think I'm dead.”

Lance strokes his face. “Okay.” He finds himself staring at Keith, getting lost in the planes of his face, the flush to his skin, the color of his eyes.

“Just…” He cradles the side of Keith face. “Don't ever do something like this again,” Lance asks. “Please?” His eyes are dark and searching. “Because I know I'm mad at you about it but right now I'm too turned on to focus.”

Keith laughs. “I'm sorry.” He bumps his cheek into Lance's palm. “You were right, I should have told you.”

Lance smooths the crease away from between Keith's brows. “Yeah, so just-” He works his mouth carefully, trying to speak past the pressure in his throat. His voice still comes out in a dry rasp.

“Don't do it again.” Lance kisses him and sits up. Keith rolls off the bed, his knees wobbling.

Lance can't help the terrified part of him that spasms at the sight, wanting to reach out and catch Keith before he falls even though rationally he knows he won't. He can't quite hide the worried edge in his voice as he asks,

“Do you want me to carry you there or should I go get Shiro?”

Keith looks mortified. “Do not. I can walk myself.” In spite of his words Keith feels dizzy and it takes him a moment to blink the black spots from his eyes.

Lance looks like he believes him and Keith wasn't expecting that. It's not in Lance's behavior to miss a chance to rib Keith so when he doesn't rise to the bait Keith is confused.

“I don't doubt it.” Lance's gaze is level and considering, a weight to both it and his words. “But maybe I want to.”

Keith flushes, dragging his shirt up over his head and Lance can't help the wolf whistle that bursts out of him. Keith glares but his eyes are sparkling as he wipes his mouth and chin on the fabric, trying to scrape off the drying blood.

Lance can't help the way his mouth goes dry at the sight of a shirtless Keith. He can tell he’s lost weight, can see shadows between Keith’s ribs that weren't there before but he's still captivated by the flush to his skin. He didn't realize how ashen Keith has grown over the past few months.

It strikes Lance how close he'd come to losing Keith; mere minutes ago he'd been lying prone on the bed, barely able to move. The same bed Lance is still lying in, flowers and Keith's blood sticking to him. He can't suppress a shiver at the thought, fear leaving him cold and suddenly all he wants is to touch Keith, to feel the heat of him and hope it'll be enough to chase away the fear.

Keith catches him staring and Lance ducks his head. He wants to touch Keith more than he wants to hide his fear so he slips from the bed, slowly wrapping an arm around Keith's waist, his hand resting lightly on Keith's hip. He's so warm he burns.

Lance's hand shakes, the breath shuddering out of him and suddenly he's the one who can't stand. His head tips forward onto Keith's shoulder and he tucks his face against Keith's neck but doesn't close his eyes, too afraid of what he might see if he does. So he stands there, close enough to feel the heat of Keith against him and tries to remember how to breathe.

“Lance?”

He expects Keith to push him away, not tentatively raise his hands to hold him. It's loose and careful and not enough and Lance trembles. Keith's grip tightens around him.

“Hey,” he murmurs in Lance's hair. “What's going on?”

Lance swallows thickly, gathering his courage. He can still taste the sharp tang of blood in his mouth.

“Just scared,” he rasps.

Lance hates feeling vulnerable and admitting how afraid he was and still is, terrifies him. He can feel it choking him, strangling the words. Tears prick his eyes and suddenly he's _freezing._

“Needed to-”

Keith strokes a hand up and down Lance's back and it helps, let's him swallow past the lump in his throat.

“Needed to feel your heartbeat,” he whispers. “Feel you breathe.”

Keith's breath hitches and Lance flinches. He wonders if he's forever to be haunted by the sound of Keith's breathing, if one day he'll finally hear it stop.

He shivers again and Keith folds Lance tightly into his arms, pressing them together. Lance is weak with relief, a half-sob slipping out against Keith's neck.

Keith's hand reaches down to take Lance's wrist, drawing it up over his chest between them.

“My heart's up here,” he whispers, turning to press a kiss to Lance's hair.

He presses Lance's palm flat against his chest and holds it there, feeling his own heart race. Lance can feel Keith's heart pounding under his palm, can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath and thinks he could stand there with Keith for eternity just listening to and feeling his heartbeat. It does more to ground him than anything else.

“Didn't know I cared so much,” Lance says softly and Keith presses a kiss to his temple that has Lance's heart melting.

“I'm glad you do.”

Lance nods from his spot against Keith's shoulder. “Me too.” He gives Keith a final squeeze and then steps back.

“I could look at you forever,” he says softly in a way that has Keith blushing and stars, the sight has Lance's heart tripping over in his chest. He thought Keith blushing before was satisfying because it meant Keith had lost his temper or was embarrassed. Now it just meant he was alive. Lance is bound and determined to make Keith blush as much as possible.

“But we really should get you to the medbay. And probably a healing pod.” Lance wipes at his cheek and takes a shuddering breath.

Keith groans, stopping to swipe a clean-ish shirt off the floor.

“I hate those things.”

Lance laughs, shamelessly watching Keith bend over.

“I know.” He catches Keith's arm and pulls him into a quick kiss, “but it'd make me feel better.”

Keith blinks at him owlishly, surprised by the kiss and too dumbfounded to argue. His eyes flick up to Lance's hair where it's now standing up in all directions and he realizes how delightfully dishevelled Lance looks. It’s a sight Keith realizes he'll have time to get used to.

The thought has a wide smile spreading across his face. He ducks his head to hide it but not before Lance has caught sight of it.

“What's that about?” he teases and Keith flushes, turning away.

“Nothing,” he says but he can't keep the smile out of his voice as he struggles into his shirt.

Lance uses a knuckle to tip Keith's chin up as he pulls his shirt down, surprised when Keith let's him.

Lance's expression is soft and more tender than Keith can ever remember seeing it and he can't believe it's being directed at him.

“You're beautiful when you smile.”

Keith blushes, his ears going bright red but doesn't pull away when Lance kisses him again, slower than before, tilting Keith's chin up to deepen it for a moment before pulling away.

“God I could do that all day,” Lance murmurs.

Keith humms in agreement. “Mmm don't make promises you can't keep,” he whispers and then he's yelping in surprise as Lance is scooping him up in his arms and carrying Keith from the room.


End file.
